Bereaving Persephone
by DominiqueMorgenstern
Summary: Post BLLB: Ronan comforts Blue in her mourning. Rated K for profanity


She stood by the table in Nino's, the table that her friends had claimed. Her eyes rested, in turn, on the Camaro, the unsuspecting people crossing the lot who were stunned to the spot by itsvivid colour. Probably imagining its owner to be a balding connoisseur at leastthree times Gansey's age. The couple wandered in, the open door letting in a gust of winter air. She stood there,silent. She was formal, unmoving; her hands hung limply at her sides. Nino's was almost empty, and her manager was nowhere to be seen, so she had no excuse not to attend to them. She inhaled slowly, trying to smother the growth swelling in her throat. It was not that she felt sad; in fact, she felt nothing at all. It was only when tears, produced of their own will, were allowed to flood her cheeks that she suddenly remembered: Persephone.

She swiveled round to look at the clock. Three more hours until she got off. She was about to pull herself away, and attend to the couple, when it echoed around her:"…Jane?"

This was helpless, now, instinctual. A switch flicked, she would turn, eyes searching, searching – ah, there. His chin was downturned, voice soft, coaxing a wild animal out of its den. "Do you want to come with?"

The face of his big, expensive watch glinted in the light; she looked away, over at the other couple, and pressed her lips together. She deliberately enunciated her accent when she said,"Come where?"

Someone sighed. She turned back to find the perpetrator, and saw Gansey blinking in a delicately shocked manner; he had just realised that she hadn't been listening. Adam squirmed in his seat, eyes avoiding hers. She glared; he refused to look up, so Ronan returned her hostility on Adam's behalf. "Cabeswater," Gansey continued, though his voice seemed distant. "This weekend. Adam's got the time off, so…"

Immediately her mind revolted against the vision this painted in her mind. An afternoon of forced smiles, feigned interest in her voice.

"Are you ok? You're swaying." This was from Adam.

She was tired of lying. "Cabeswater. Not particularly."

A strained moment passed, and then Gansey shrugged, breezy. "That's fine, we can do it some other time."

The vehemence in her voice surprised her. "No. No. Don't stay just because of me. If you want to do it, do it. But don't stay for me."

"Honestly, I don't mind. Whenever you feel like—"

"I don't ever feel like it. You don't get this, do you? I don't want to go. It'll make everything worse, and – Cabeswater's the reason why I'm in this mess and—don't you understand?" She felt tears sliding down her face. "I don't want to do this, any of this, anymore. I can't. I—" She thought, saying this is pointless. She turned away.

Gansey leaned into Ronan, their shoulders nearly touching. He said confidingly, "Do you think she meant that? Genuinely?"

Ronan was looking after her, where she had disappeared behind the kitchen door, his blue eyes sharp. He didn't answer, which meant, yes.

Adam said, "She'll come round. She's just…"

Grieving. He knew he shouldn't have suggested it. But then, they weren't the only ones looking for Glendower, and they wouldn't be waiting around for anyone. He felt wretched. "I don't wanther to come round, if she doesn't want to. I don't want anyone to feel like they're obligated. Like this is all just…me…"

Ronan said, "Maybe I'll talk to her."

Adam looked astonished. "You?"

Gansey succumbed; his voice was an embittered whisper. "Yes…You understand." Ronan and Adam understood Blue in ways he never could.

"What do you wa—oh, it's you."

Ronan skulked. Hands in pockets, shadows enveloping his figure, he had the carefully cultivated mien of knife-wielding drug lord. What a set of contradictions he was.

Sitting on the floor, she stared at the ground and thought, I won't stop crying for him. Let him be uncomfortable. She sniffed, "You lose something out here, or?"

He kicked at some old cigarette stubs on the asphalt, mouth twisting. "Gansey's worried about you."

"Is he now."

"Yeah."

She turned to look up at him. "I don't see why. I told him – go find Glendower without me, I don't mind. I'm not holding anyone back."

"Are you being willfully stupid? You know it's nothing to do with that."

She wiped the tears away. "With Glendower? Oh, I think it has everything to do with that."

"Fucking Christ. He's worried because he cares. About you, dumbass." He said the last part with relish.

Did he know? She and Gansey had been secret enough, hadn't they? Had Noah betrayed them? "I don't know why. I'm fine."

Visibly agitated, he threw his head back. "You practically ran away from us, and now you're sitting back here on your own, crying, and you're telling me you're fine. Yeah, okay."

She scoffed. "Well, hey, at least I'm not drinking myself to sleep and getting into fights and street racing. I've yet to sink that low."

She didn't dare look at him. A long, jagged silence followed. Then, he said, "Why do you think I'm standing here, and not Gansey?"

"I don't know—because Gansey asked you to?"

He weighs the words carefully as he says them, "Has it not occurred to you that I'm the only one who knows what you're going through?"

The truth fell upon her: his father. Of course. She felt so ashamed, so thoughtless, so cruel. "Ronan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did. Don't bother fucking apologising."

She heard him approach; she looked up and saw the dreaded taking place. He was sitting down beside her. She swallowed nervously. "But why not? I am sorry."

He looked into the distance. "Because I know the place that those words come from. No need…" The rest of his sentence was tossed to the wind.

Her tears streamed thick and fast. The freezing winter wind against the dampness of her face and neck to a kind of feverishness; her breath shivered inside her, unable to enter her lungs. She tried to breathe, haltingly, whimpering, but she couldn't.

He hissed, "Christ." Out of the tail of his eye, he told her, "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will destroy you."

She did not have time for bewilderment; his arms had already slipped around her. There was a very gentle, solid sustained pressure there, it didn't expect or demand, it merely offered. She was surprised to find that, despite himself, he did not seem embarrassed or unsure; not in the slightest. How odd she felt, in his arms; how bizarrely blessed she felt. Ronan, who would never bear anyone the slightest tenderness if it could possibly be whispered, "It won't last forever, you know."

"I want it to, though."

She felt him shake his head. "You shouldn't. Being happy doesn't mean forgetting. Doesn't mean they're not with you."

"I can't do it."

"You can, you're strong."

She sniffed. "You feelin' okay?"

He pulled back and sighed. "Oh, you had to ruin it, Sargent."

A smile tugged at her lips. "You know what our problem is, Lynch?"

"What?"

"We're tragically alike, you and I."

"Ha!" But he smiled.

She felt strangely triumphant, cleansed, as she got to her feet. She told him that she couldn't let them see her like this; he told her not to be ashamed. "We've all got our shit. In fact, no…maybe you have a point."

"What?"

"Well, Gansey. He's a goddamn marshmallow. You start crying around him, and either he'll start crying, or he'll be in hysterics, pacing around, not knowing what to do with himself. Actually, no, that would be funny. You should do that," He advised her.

Blue laughed with him as they stepped back into Nino's. She thought, he knows. He knows. He definitely. Knows. She considered him secretly: would he tell? But, no, she thought. If anyone could keep secrets, it was Ronan.


End file.
